deepundergroundpoetry.com
After+Math
A skeleton strewn on the curb
Bone fragments hair and fur
A relic of a Saint embedded
An olive branch and dove rescinded
Glassy eyes glazed over and still
A cup not half full nor filled
Shimmering dust in the long long dark
A distance closed in a quiet park
I spend my time but earn not enough
I prefer to be gentle I'm sorry for being rough
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